


You're the best kind of bad something

by scalira



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Sex, M/M, Non-Explicit Smut, agressive sex kinda, angsty sex, bottom!raphael, but also bottom!simon, by fucking them away, i have no excuse for this other than that i think this is how they would solve their problems, okay this is just sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 15:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6526297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scalira/pseuds/scalira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tomorrow the world may be determined to destroy them, but tonight they destroyed each other.<br/>And maybe someday they will rise from the ashes, but tonight they just lie in ruins together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're the best kind of bad something

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic is a lyric from the song Rock Bottom by Hailee Steinfeld, which is my #1 Saphael song.

Raphael knows exactly when Simon tries to sneak back in.

He’s in his room, trying to read a book but failing. His mind keeps going back to that day, when Simon chose the Shadowhunters over them. Over _him_. He doesn’t want to admit it – not to others and not to himself, but Simon’s departure hurt him more than just as the leader of the clan. He didn’t just lose one of his own, he also just lost _him_. Simon hadn’t just been part of their family. He’d been part of Raphael himself. Without him he feels incomplete, like he’s missing an arm or leg or even his heart.

But, of course, he would never admit that out loud.

He never wants to see him again. He wants his face to fade away over time just like it did with others, he wants to forget the sound of his laugh and how he sounded breathless underneath him, or how he whimpered his name. He wants to erase every memory of him, of the Could Have Been and the Maybe clinging to his name.

But when he senses his presence in the hotel, scared and little like the heartbeat of a bird, everything comes rushing back to him, threatens to suffocate him. Every smile, every lingering touch, every soft kiss pressed onto sensitive skin.

And Raphael is furious.

He freezes on the spot, anger spilling from every fiber in his body. If he goes out to find Simon now, he’ll kill him without a second thought. So he waits for him to come to him, to see if he dares to. It’s like a test: if he does, Raphael will spare his life. If he doesn’t – Raphael may just linger in his room long enough for Simon to escape before he goes after him.

He’s almost relieved when the door to his room opens five minutes later. Almost.

Simon must know Raphael heard him coming, yet he proceeds to quietly shuffle into his room until he’s standing in the middle of it. Only then Raphael turns around to face him.

“What are you doing back here?” He spits. He tries to put all his anger in those few words.

“Raph, I -”

“It’s Raphael for you, fledgling.”

Simon gulps visibly, looks at his feet as he continues: “I’m so sorry, Raphael. I – I never wanted to -”

“To what? To betray me? To choose your little Shadowhunter friends over your own kind? But you did.”

“I – I know. But _please_ – try to understand…”

“Understand? You want me to _understand_? There’s nothing to understand, Simon! You made your choice. Now you have to live with it.”

“Raphael, don’t – please don’t do this.”

Raphael is so angry, he wants to break something or scream or punch a hole in the wall. Instead, he clenches his jaw and says: “I made my choice too, and now I have to live with it as well.”

“But -”

“But _what_?”

He watches as Simon takes a deep unneeded breath, moves a hand over his face before letting it fall to his side. Then he looks straight at Raphael, rolls his shoulders as if he’s preparing for a battle or attack and says, clearly and confident: “Raphael, I love you.”

He’s moving before he even realizes it, all but throws Simon against the nearest wall. He presses his forearm against his throat and pushes. Simon makes choking noises until he realizes he doesn’t need the breath that’s being taken from him.

“Don’t lie to me,” Raphael hisses.

“I’m not. I do. I love you.”

“Stop lying!” He screams. Bloody tears are threatening to spill and he furiously blinks them away. He will not cry for this boy, for this liar.

“You don’t love me, you never loved me! You only care about that Shadowhunter girl. You would walk through hell for her.” _And leave me to be swallowed by the flames_.

“But I would stay there for you,” Simon whispers.

And Raphael can feel himself break. It starts near his dead heart, a crack in his chest spreading until he’s shattered all over the floor, pieces for Simon to pick up and put back together.

Simon makes the mistake to kiss him.

As soon as their lips touch, the anger is back in Raphael’s stomach, angrily licking away at all his compassion and love like flames would destroy a forest.

Raphael’s body is on fire, only fed by Simon’s touch and kisses.

He is the earthquake and Simon is the house getting destroyed by it; he is the sea and Simon the small fisher’s boat getting swallowed by the waves.

He wants to destroy him. He wants to hurt him like Simon hurt Raphael.

So he does.

Simon had been gentle with the kiss, like he knew Raphael was close to breaking. But the fire mended the cracks and Raphael doesn’t want to be gentle. He wants to make Simon feel how he feels inside, wants to take his breath away not with affection but with pain.

He pushes back into the kiss, pressing his lips almost painfully hard on Simon’s. His hand moves from Simon’s throat to his hair to yank at the short strands until Simon’s head is tilted to the side. Then he parts with Simon’s lips, only to travel down his jaw and neck next, leaving biting kisses until he draws blood.

Simon shudders against him when he licks up the blood, presses himself closer to Raphael. Raphael slides his hands over Simon’s toned body until he’s at his thighs, grabbing the soft flesh and digging his nails into his skin. He picks him up with ease and lets Simon wrap his legs around his waist before pressing him against the wall again, even harder this time.

His breath is knocked out of his lungs when his back hits the wall. He whimpers softly, not loud enough for Raphael to make anything out of it, to hear if it’s out of pleasure or pain. He hopes the latter.

Simon tilts his head backwards so Raphael can reach his throat, where he’s most vulnerable. He could easily kill him like this, rip his throat out with his fangs and leave him on the floor to decompose. But instead he takes his skin between his teeth and bites down on it, pulls at it hard enough to sting. Then he moves up again, past his chin, to pull at Simon’s lower lip instead.

Simon seems to realize what game Raphael is playing, and he moves his hands from his shoulders to his neck to pull at the short hairs at the nape. When Raphael doesn’t respond, he digs his nails deeply into the flesh of his neck.

Raphael groans deep in his throat, almost violently pushes Simon legs open even more to shove himself between them completely. Simon gasps when he feels Raphael against him, is quick to move his hands from Raphael’s neck to his stomach to unbutton his jeans. Raphael swats his hands away, takes both of Simon’s wrists in his hand to press them above his head.

Tonight, he’s in control.

Raphael rocks his hips against Simon’s, who just whimpers again in return. His hands are trembling now, clinging onto Raphael’s frame to keep himself up.

“Raphael, please,” he begs. But Raphael isn’t planning on pleasing Simon. He doesn’t want to give, he just wants to take.

So he wraps both his hands around his thighs again, lifts him up and carries him to his bed.

Raphael isn’t gentle as he throws Simon onto the mattress. He doesn’t give the fledgling the chance to get comfortable either, already crawling onto the bed himself to pin him down.

Simon’s shirt comes off first, yanked over his head by Raphael. Raphael pulls his own shirt off next and then pants are being unbuttoned and rolled down legs and then they’re both only in their underwear, both panting and just looking at each other, Simon on his back and Raphael on his knees between his legs.

In that moment, Raphael hates Simon and Simon hates Raphael and they just want to destroy each other before the world can destroy them.

So they do.

Raphael takes Simon apart first, crashing his hips into his without any mercy, only fueled by Simon’s loud groans. He bites and pulls and drags his nails over soft skin, like a parody of their usual loving embrace. But tonight, there is no love. There’s only hurt and be hurt, pushing and pulling, hating and loathing.

Simon flips them over after they both fall apart, doesn’t give Raphael time to recover before pressing one, two fingers inside of him. And Raphael still hates him, the way his fingers curl just right, the way he knows when to pull back and when to push deeper. And he hates the way he sounds, desperate and weak, whimpering under Simon’s touch.

Raphael cries when Simon fucks him, sobbing into his pillow and biting down on the fingers Simon stuffed into his mouth. He’s ruthless, void of any affection he might feel for Raphael. Despite being full with Simon, Raphael still feels empty.

Somewhere during the night, halfway through their path of destruction, the bitten _‘I loathe you_ ’s turn into whispered ‘ _I love you’_ s, the angry ‘ _I want to hurt you’_ s turn into sobbed _‘you hurt me’_ s and the hateful swearwords turn into loving pleads to please forgive him, please look at him, please take him back.

Raphael’s voice loses a bit of its sternness every time Simon begs and his eyes turn softer every time he ducks down to press a kiss to his throat, where he is most vulnerable. No teeth this time, no anger. Just open lips, hot breath.

The crack the fire mended is breaking again, spreading from around his heart to the rest of his body. Simon will have to pick up his pieces once he’s done with him. Maybe this time, Raphael will let him.

When they fall next to each other at the end of the night, panting and unable to look at each other, Simon starts crying too. Raphael thinks he might be broken as well. He hopes their pieces will get mixed up, so maybe someone can build a mosaic out of them someday.

Raphael doesn’t move as Simon cries, doesn’t take him into his arms or stroke his hair or tell him that it’s okay, because it’s not. He’s still angry and he still hates him, but when Simon reaches for his hand, he lets him take it anyway. Because Simon could ask for his life and he would end up giving it to him.

Tomorrow the world may be determined to destroy them, but tonight they destroyed each other.  
And maybe someday they will rise from the ashes, but tonight they just lie in ruins together.

**Author's Note:**

> I really seem to have a soft spot for angsty sex between these two i'm sorry


End file.
